With or Without You
by Daxx Ripley
Summary: Beth has lived protected and sheltered her entire life; tucked away under the wings of her family and hidden from the reality of life. When her family loses their home, she finds herself taken prisoner and subjected to the cold reality of life. One man is determined to save her life, but at what cost?
1. I

The day was humid; the air thick and muggy, and the temperature high. The sun shone sharply onto Beth's legs as she repeatedly ground the jeans in her hands onto the washboard in front of her. Warm water splashed onto her face and she paused to wipe off the sweat and water with the back of her hand. She winced as the washboard grated fresh blisters onto her knuckles and fingers. Dropping the jeans into the bin of water with a loud splash, she sat back in her chair and closed her eyes with a sigh.

"I know," Maggie said quietly from next to her. She too put the clothes she was washing into her own tub of water and relaxed in her seat. "I have them too," she said quietly, assessing her fingers.

Beth picked silently at a blister until a tiny drop of blood appeared. She wiped it on her shorts and massaged her fingers gently. Sweat pooled on the back of her neck and she quietly tied her hair back into a loose ponytail. Her eyes drifted to Maggie, who was staring silently at the washboard in front of her. Since the end began, life had been tense. Both she and Maggie struggled to cope with the death of their loved ones, but somehow Maggie managed better. At this moment, though, Beth felt as though she should give her sister reassuring advice, but she fell short and instead remained quiet.

"Get Daddy and Jimmy," Maggie said suddenly, rising to her feet in alarm.

"What is it?" Beth asked nervously, her eyes following Maggie's out across the field in front of their house. She could barely make out figures in the distance. She stood from her chair quickly and leaned forward, resting her weight on the rail and trying to decipher what she was seeing.

Maggie plucked binoculars from the porch rail in front of her and scanned out over the distance. "Dad!" she shouted loudly, ignoring Beth's question and spinning around to wrench the front door open.

Beth's pulse thundered in her ears as her fingers closed around the deposited binoculars and she looked out into the field. Three men ran towards them; one of them pulling Otis behind him and one of them carrying a small boy. Beth lowered the binoculars just as Maggie bounded back out onto the front porch followed immediately by Hershel, Jimmy, and Patricia.

"Otis is with them," Beth said quietly, crossing her arms nervously over her chest as they awaited the arrival of the men.

They were all quiet, Beth shuffling her feet unsteadily, until the man carrying the child reached the fence and they heard his frantic voice ring out and break the silence.

"Hershel? _Hershel_!"

As the man drew closer, they all noticed his hands, arms, and the front of his shirt was stained crimson from blood – the boy in his arms unmoving.

"Oh, my God," Beth whispered, her hand rising to cover her mouth quickly.

Hershel made his way down the steps and met the man in the yard. He was drenched in sweat and drowning in panic. His breath was ragged and sharp from running, and he looked ready to collapse at any second. Patricia ran down the steps after Hershel, coming up to a stop just behind him.

"Help," the man cried with a shaky voice. "He's been shot – my son. You have to help me! Otis– "

"Get him inside," Hershel said quickly in a stern voice. "Maggie, Beth, get me fresh water, clean towels, and painkillers."

Beth and Maggie rushed through the front door behind Hershel, the man and his unconcious son, and Patricia. Maggie headed quickly for the kitchen to retrieve the water and painkillers, and Beth to the bathroom for towels. Her hands shook nervously and she had to force herself to steady her breathing. She ran down the hallway into the guest bedroom where the boy had been placed on the bed and sat the towels in a chair next to him.

"What's your name?" Hershel asked the man as he threaded an iv into the small boy's arm.

He was quiet, trembling and eyes never wavering from the boy, before he finally whispered, "Rick. My name's– It– I'm Rick. . . Rick."

"And the boy?"

"Carl," Rick whispered in a desperate, defeated voice.

Rick's face fell into his open palms and he released a loud sob, his shoulders heaving with each breath. "My wife doesn't know. She should be here. She doesn't kno–"

"What is his blood type?" Hershel asked, focused only on the boy in front of him.

"A positive; same as mine."

"You're lucky. He's going to need blood soon."

Hershel settled himself into the chair next to the bed. He checked Carl's pulse and blood pressure, nodding to himself. He inspected the wound on the boy's abdomen and pressed his lips together in a tight line.

"The bullet hasn't punctured any organs, but it's not clean. It broke up. I'm going to have to remove the shards, but it's going to be extremely painful."

Beth stood at the far end of the room, her back pressed to the wall, unable to move. Jimmy moved to stand next to her. She could feel his eyes on her, but found her gaze too frozen on the dying boy in front of her to look at Jimmy. She felt his warm fingers twine together with her own, but did not acknowledge him. When Hershel began working to remove the bullet fragments, Carl regained consciousness and suddenly his agonizing screams echoed off the walls around them.

Beth closed her eyes shut tightly, pressing her back roughly into the wall behind her as if she could push through it and disappear. The sound of Carl's anguished cries sliced to her bone and flared goosebumps on her arms, chilling her entire body.

"I can't," she began, shaking her head. "I can't sit in here while he screams like this."

She pulled her hand quickly from Jimmy's and strode from the room hurriedly. She didn't stop, didn't pause to catch her stolen breath, until she was outside the house and seated on the front porch steps. She pulled her knees to her chest and rested her chin on the top of them, Carl's terrorized screaming still reverberating in her head. After what seemed like ages, the screaming stopped. Beth was finally able to relax her tense body ever so slightly.

The screen door creaked as Maggie opened it and walked outside, off the porch past Beth, and headed for the corral. Beth, eager to give herself distance from the house, wasted no time in pushing off from the porch steps and following her sister.

"Maggie," she said softly, pulling up stride next to her. "Is he going to be okay?"

Her eyes remained focused ahead; determined. "I don't know. Otis is taking the other man, Shane, into town to get supplies. I've got to go find Rick's wife, Lori."

They reached the barn and Maggie began saddling her horse with quick, deft fingers. Hundreds of times she had done this – Beth too.

"I'm coming with yo–"

"No, you're not," Maggie interrupted immediately. She turned and gave Beth a stern look.

"You're not going out there alone!" Beth cried, shaking her head.

"And you're not going out there at all. It's too dangerous. You need to stay here in case dad needs your help."

"When has he ever needed my help?" Beth asked in a whisper. "What am I supposed to do? Sit on the porch and listen to that little boy scream in pain? What if something goes wrong and you're alone? No, I'm coming."

"Beth, I said–"

"You're my sister, not my mother," Beth said sharply. "You can't stop me."

She turned her back to Maggie and had her own horse saddled just as Maggie slung herself into the saddle. Dust flew as the two of them departed the corral and property, and into the cover of the woods. It was the first time Beth had been allowed access to anything further out than their barn, and she knew if her father had known she would've been forced to stay at the house.

She followed Maggie, the wind cooling her sun kissed skin as they rode through the trees. She eagerly accepted the small taste of freedom she had, every miniscule thought of the plague devouring everyone parting her mind with ease.

"There they are!" Maggie said loudly, veering sharply to the left.

Beth tightened her grip on the reins, pulling her left hand sharply back and following Maggie. The two of them came to an abrupt halt in front of a group of five; two men and three women.

"Lori Grimes?" Maggie asked anxiously, her horse shifting nervously sensing her nerves.

Beth scanned the group in front of them, drinking in the sight of unfamiliar new faces. There was an Asian boy with dark, almond shaped eyes glued to Maggie – shock and confusion shining on his face. To his left, a blonde woman with messy hair and wild, blue eyes shifting anxiously from Beth to Maggie. Behind her, an older woman with short, gray hair and red rimmed eyes like she'd been crying. A slender, dark haired woman stepped forward with nervous eyes trained on Maggie.

"How do you kno–" the woman began, but Maggie quickly interjected

"You have to come _now_. Rick sent me, your son's been shot. We have to go!"

Lori's face immediately shifted from astonishment to despair, and she stumbled forward toward Maggie. A man shoved between the Asian boy and the blonde, parting them roughly. His eyes were dark, hair messy, and expression hard. He pulled a crossbow from his shoulder and gripped it tightly. As his gaze drifted from Maggie to Beth. Her pulse began to race and she dropped her eyes quickly.

"Hell no. You can't get on the back of that horse!" he shouted angrily. "We don't know shit about them!"

But Lori ignored him as if he hadn't spoken and took Maggie's hand, climbing on the back of her horse. Beth gained enough courage to look up again, but the man wasn't looking at her this time. His face shone rough anger, and it made her uncomfortably nervous. Maggie began giving directions to the farm, but her voice sounded distant in Beth's ears. She was still watching the man with the crossbow as he paced unsteadily. His eyes flitted back to hers for a fleeting moment, but Maggie sharply turned her horse and Beth was forced to follow. She barely heard the man spewing a slew of curse words to their backs as they rode away.

* * *

><p>It was dusk when the others finally reached the farm. Beth had already made dinner and everyone had eaten. She was sitting on the porch watching the sun set and the moon slowly rise when headlights appeared in the distance. From the car came the Asian boy, the older woman, and a dark skinned man Beth hadn't yet seen. She rose from her chair as the three of them stood awkwardly at the edge of the steps. The screen door alerted them as Maggie walked out into the muggy night air. She came to a stop next to Beth.<p>

"I'm Maggie, and this is my sister, Beth," she greeted quietly.

The other three were quiet for a moment when finally the Asian boy spoke. "I'm Glenn. This is Carol and T-Dog."

"Y'all come inside," Maggie said gently, motioning for the door. "We'll fix you some supper."

Inside the kitchen, Beth began cutting vegetables for salad next to Maggie when Glenn entered the kitchen. He was quiet, his face fallen. He leaned his back against the counter, and Beth caught him stealing glances at Maggie.

"How's he doing?" he asked quietly.

"Not well," replied Maggie solemnly. "He has internal bleeding. He needs surgery."

"He'll be okay," Beth said, her gaze meeting Glenn's. "Dad only needs the respirator before he can operate. He's going to pull through."

Beth offered him a smile, but Glenn only nodded and dropped his gaze. She put the contents of the salad in a small bowl and passed it to Glenn. Maggie filled two more bowls, handing one to Beth, and they left the room to give the food to Carol and T-Dog. The five of them sat in silence as T-Dog and Glenn ate hungrily while Carol only prodded at her food with her fork. Beth tucked her legs underneath her and relaxed on the couch.

"Is the rest of your group coming?" Maggie asked curiously.

Glenn met her eyes with a sad look. "Tomorrow. We're missing a girl; Sophia. They're still looking for her. Walkers got after her in the woods and. . ."

His voice trailed off and he shook his head, looking down at his salad. Beth's thoughts drifted to Sophia – the poor girl was probably terrified and hungry, and all alone. She hugged her arms to herself and chewed on her bottom lip as she wondered where the girl could have ended up.

Patricia entered the room, drying her hands on a small towel and motioned for T-Dog.

"Lets get you stitched up, come on," she said softly.

As the two of them left the room, Beth rose to her feet.

"I'll have breakfast made in the morning for everyone," she said to no one in particular before looking down at her sister. "Wake me if anything happens, okay?"

"Okay," Maggie promised softly.

"Goodnight."

* * *

><p>Welcome, fellow Bethyl shippers, to my life of tears and anxiety. I've been dying to write a Bethyl fic since I caught up on TWD. This is absolutely my favorite ship, and I eagerly anticipate the rekindling of their affection in the next season. ;)<p>

This story clearly starts in S2. Some things, you will notice, are canon but most will veer into my own creation. This is a shorter chapter than what most will probably be, so stick with it and you will be rewarded. Comment, review, let me know what you think! :)


	2. II

In her dream, she saw her mother. She looked beaming, healthy, with sparkling blue eyes and vibrant blonde hair – just like Beth's. She was in the kitchen baking, like she always did, when Beth walked in. Her mother turned and flashed a smile. Beth felt her emotions surge at the sight of her mother healthy and happy; bearing no resemblance to the pale, sickly woman who died with a raging fever and bloody cough.

"Mom," Beth whispered, extending her arms to her mother.

Her mother's embrace felt warm and protective. She buried her face in the woman's neck. Her perfume was crisp and light – the scent of the cool lemon cleaner she always used. Beth inhaled deeply, closing her eyes and losing herself in the moment. This was the side of her mother she tried valiantly to remember. She only visited occasionally in her dreams, but that seemed to suffice. She felt so real, so alive, that Beth quickly forgot she was dreaming at all.

"I thought you were gone," she whispered, hugging her mother tighter.

"No, baby. No," Her mother replied softly, stroking her hair. "I'm here."

But when Beth tried pulling herself away from her mother to look up at her face, she felt the dream shift. An eerie feeling of fear crept through her veins suddenly. Her mother gripped Beth's shoulders roughly, digging her fingernails into her bare skin. She cried out in pain, and tried to tug away from her mother but her grasp was too strong. Panic flared inside her, and she braced her hands on her mothers abdomen and tried to push her away. Her skin felt cold and clammy. And that's when she heard the moan; the hiss.

Her breathing sped up and her heart raced as she stumbled backwards, tripping over her own feet and falling to the floor. Her mother tumbled on top of her, and when their eyes met Beth let out a shriek of fright. Her mother's skin was gray and the white of her eyes pure, blood red. She opened her mouth and growled down at Beth, and then lunged for her daughter's throat.

* * *

><p>"Beth? Wake up, Beth. Wake up. You're dreaming."<p>

Beth's eyes flew open and she shot up in bed, her heart racing. Her blue eyes were wide and wild, searching the room frantically for any sign of danger. She clutched at her comforter desperately as fight or flight kicked in, the remnants of the dream fresh in her head, and she began to panic. She kicked back the covers and threw her body out of bed, breathing heavily and pressing her back against the wall. She felt a hand wrap around her wrist and she pulled away with a small screech.

"It's okay! It's okay. I promise, it was just a dream. You're fine."

It was only then that she noticed her sister standing next to her, her dark eyes filled with concern. She let out the breath she hadn't realized she was holding and groped for her sister's hand. She held it tightly, closing her eyes and holding on to her reality.

"It was just a dream," Beth whispered.

"Just a dream," Maggie repeated softly.

When Beth opened her eyes she looked around the dark room and realized the sun hadn't yet come up. She eased back down onto her bed and brushed her hair from her face.

"Mom again?" Maggie asked gently, sitting down next to her on the bed.

"How'd you know?"

Maggie paused before replying, then met her sister's blue eyes and whispered, "You scream during those dreams. Beth, she's just sick. Once we get the right medicine, she'll be better."

"I know," Beth replied, inhaling deeply. "I just can't get the images out of my head. . . It'll be okay."

To her, it sounded more like she was trying to convince herself. She and Maggie sat in silence for a few moments. Every time Beth closed her eyes, she saw the sight of her mother when she was sick. She began feeling nauseous and pulled her hand from her sisters. She rose from the bed and began for her bathroom, but Maggie's voice stopped her.

"Shane returned."

Beth turned around slowly, locking eyes with her sister. "Shane?"

"Just Shane."

"Otis. . ." Beth trailed off.

Maggie shook her head, and Beth was sure she was going to throw up. She covered her mouth with her hand and strode quickly into the bathroom, locking the door behind her. She didn't sleep the rest of the night.

When dawn finally broke, Beth pulled on the first pair of jeans and shirt she found and forced herself from her room. Downstairs, the living room was filled with strangers. Their voices hushed as she entered the room. Maggie looked up from the couch and offered her a weak smile.

"This is my sister, Beth," she introduced, glancing around the room. "Beth, this is Glenn, Andrea, Dale, Carol, and Daryl."

Beth recognized Glenn, Andrea, and Daryl – Daryl most of all. She couldn't shake his harsh gaze from the day before. The man's eyes met hers from beneath his lashes, but he never spoke; didn't say hello, didn't even smile. He looked away just as suddenly as he had looked at her, and she followed suit by dropping her eyes.

"How's Carl?" she asked.

"Stable," Glenn answered. "He'll be okay."

"Good," Beth replied, finally smiling slightly. "Has anyone had breakfast?"

"Don't have time," Daryl answered quietly, his voice rough. "Need to be out looking for that little girl."

"I'd love breakfast," Glenn responded happily.

Daryl scoffed and shot a glare at Glenn. "Sophia is _missing. _We ought to be out looking for her, not sitting on our asses like everything's fine!"

Glenn didn't respond, only looked at Maggie briefly before looking at the floor. Beth shifted her weight from one foot to another, looking around the room awkwardly. Her eyes somehow always drifted over Daryl, until she found him looking back.

"Fine," he growled once he realized his opinion stood alone. "Go ahead and pamper them, princess. I'm out of here."

He stormed from the room, shoving open the screen door and letting it slam shut behind him.

"Don't worry about him, that's just Daryl," Andrea said, noticing the nervous look on Beth's face.

"I'll get breakfast started," Beth said quietly, leaving the room.

They held a funeral service for Otis, after everyone had breakfast, next to a large oak tree in the yard. Beth stood off to the side beneath the tree, resting her back against the bark. Everyone was in attendance except for Carl who was still bedridden. She never heard Daryl approach, not his footsteps through the grass or his crossbow as he rested it against the tree, but when she looked to her right there he was. He rested his shoulder against the tree, eyes staring ahead at the rest of the group. Though he was standing next to her, he seemed far away.

She hadn't realized she'd been staring until his eyes flicked to hers. Embarrassed, she looked away immediately and noticed most of the group watching her. Her face flushed red and she pushed off from the tree, leaving Daryl's side and moving to stand next to Patricia. She positioned herself so that she couldn't see him – easier for her to not cast curious glances his way.

As the funeral was conducted, her family began to cry. Even she wiped at her eyes as Patricia spoke. She felt a hand embrace hers and looked up to see Jimmy. He gave her heartfelt smile, silent reassurance that everything would be okay. She rested her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes and listening to the last eulogy for Otis given by Shane. As the funeral pulled to an end and the group began to disperse slowly, Beth opened her eyes and dared a look to the tree but Daryl was gone.

The day grew hot quickly, and as evening closed in it was sweltering. Windows in the house were wide open, the white curtains blowing in the soft wind. Beth found herself in the kitchen with Carol, Lori, and Patricia helping them fix dinner for everyone. She was helping Carol peel potatoes and sharing small talk.

"How old are you, Beth?"

"Eighteen," she replied, dropping the potato in her hand into the pot in front of her. "I was getting ready for college when everyone started getting sick.

"Which school?" Lori asked curiously.

"Just community college. I didn't want to be too far away from home. I was going to study nursing."

"That's nice. Wouldn't hurt to be a nurse now," Carol commented.

Beth smiled and nodded in agreement, "It would be useful."

"What's going on?"

Beth looked up and saw Maggie and her father talking in hushed voices from the other room. She craned her neck, ears straining to pick up the conversation but the whispers were too quiet. She sat down the potato peeler, about to go speak with them when a gunshot exploded in the air. Every head in the room jerked up in alarm. Lori's wide eyes met Carol's, and instantly everyone flooded from the room, Beth following. Her heart pounded as she stumbled out onto the porch last. She looked around the yard and saw Rick and Shane dragging Daryl towards the house.

Her father's face was flushed with anger then concern. She squeezed between Carol and Lori as the men drew closer and she finally got a good look at Daryl. Blood was stained on his shirt and dripping from the side of his face. His clothes were wet, muddy, and dirty, and an arrow protruded from his side. Her lips parted in shock. She crossed her arms and covered her trembling hands.

"Is he alive?" she asked suddenly.

Rick, breathing heavily and face flushed, met her eyes, "He's alive, but he's been shot. He needs stitches and this arrow needs removed. Hershel?"

"Get him in the house," Hershel said gruffly.

Beth stepped aside as the men carried Daryl past. She felt the strange urge to reach out and touch him – help him somehow – but she kept her hands to herself and her eyes on his face. Jimmy pulled up next to her, watching her face. She looked up at him and masked her concern.

"We should finish dinner," she muttered, following everyone in the house and leaving Jimmy outside.

As the women finished cooking, Rick and Hershel entered the kitchen. Her father was wiping blood from his hands and Rick rubbed the back of his neck. He looked stressed and exhausted.

"He'll be fine. The bullet just grazed him, but he needs to stay in bed and not exert himself," Hershel commented, thoroughly washing his hands.

"Dinner's almost ready," Lori said to Rick and Hershel.

Hershel paused, watched her for a moment, and then left the room. She gave Rick a worried look, but didn't speak. Rick touched her shoulder gently and followed Hershel out. Beth began taking down china and silverware to set the table while Maggie made iced tea.

"Glenn is nice," Beth commented, watching her sister.

Maggie raised her eyebrows and nodded, "He's a good guy." She paused and looked around before continuing. "I'm not so sure about Shane, though. Something seems off about him."

"I'm not sure about Daryl, either. He's. . .," Beth added.

"Glenn says Daryl is a good person, just misunderstood."

Beth watched her from beneath her lashes as they finished setting the table. "He's too angry all of the time."

"I think he's just worried about finding Sophia," Maggie explained with a shrug.

As the seats began to fill and the table became crowded with food, Beth took a seat across from Maggie and Glenn. Everyone ate in awkward silence, and the night began to drag on slowly. Glenn tried to ease the tension a few times, but no one responded.

"I'll take Carl a plate," Lori said finally. "Someone should take Daryl something, too. He probably didn't eat at all today."

Carol began filling a plate with food next to Lori and pouring a glass of tea when Rick walked up next to her.

"Let someone else," he said softly. "I need to talk to you for a moment."

Carol looked worried for a moment, but Rick shook his head and rested his hand on her back as he lead her from the room. Beth looked around and noticed no one move to take Daryl dinner. She chewed her bottom lip and rose from her chair, deciding if no one else would then she would. She grabbed the plate and glass from the table and wordlessly left the dining room.

Her bare feet padded softly down the hallway and she paused outside his room. She felt nervous, though she knew he was too injured to physically hurt her. It was then she realized she wasn't afraid of him hurting her – only felt uncomfortable because she didn't know him and couldn't predict anything about him. She took a deep breath and balanced the plate and glass as she gently opened the door. In the silence, the creak of the door sounded loud. Her pulse thundered in her ears. She was expecting to his eyes hooded, angry eyes watching her when she walked in, but he was asleep.

She quietly drew closer, setting the plate and glass down on the nightstand silently. In the privacy, she felt braver and less embarrassed at watching him. He looked younger when he slept, she thought, and not the slightest bit angry. His expression was soft – relaxed. A bandage wrapped around his forehead. The covers had been tugged down to his waist, exposing his bare chest and the bandage on his side. Her eyes drifted from his wound, past his chest, and back up to his face.

Welled with courage, she extended a slightly shaky hand and let her fingers skim the bandage on his forehead gentlywhen his hand shot up, quick as lightning, and clasped her wrist tightly. Her skin sparked from his touch. His eyes blue eyes opened slowly and he watched her harshly.

"What," he began dangerously, "the hell are you doing?"

She stepped back, but he didn't release the hold on her wrist and she found herself frozen in place. Her heart hammered so hard, so loud, that she was sure he could hear it.

"I– I wasn't– I was just–"

He dropped her wrist like it was fire and wrenched the sheets up over his body quickly. His face flushed, equally embarrassed. She stepped backwards, putting space between the two of them.

"How are you feeling?" She asked weakly, trying to steer the conversation away from her.

"M'fine," he muttered.

There was an awkward, quiet pause as neither of them spoke. She stared at the wall above his head, silently deciding whether to stay or leave.

"I brought you food," she said suddenly.

He looked at her carefully then slowly slid his gaze to the plate of food next to him. He stared at it for a moment before trying to sit up in bed. He grimaced, but only pushed harder on the mattress.

"You shouldn't," Beth said, never moving from her spot. "Dad said you shouldn't exer-"

He stopped only to catch her eye. His look stopped her, and she swallowed.

"I'll be out of here tomorrow," he said matter-of-factly. "Got to find Sophia."

"You almost got yourself killed out there today," she stated softly.

"What do you care?" he spat. "Go on back to your room and curl up in your safe little bed and quit bothering."

"I was just-"

"What?" he growled angrily. "You were just _what_? Sticking your nose in business that ain't yours. Leave me be."

She stared at him with an appalled expression, though she knew she should havee expected this from him. Her lips parted slightly. She considered arguing, yelling back, but instead she obeyed and headed for the door. She paused in the doorway and turned to look at him, only to find him watching her.

"You'll find her," she said softly. "You will."

"Whatever," he muttered, rolling over and ending the conversation.

* * *

><p>AN: Thank you sooo much for the kind reviews! :) You guys are too sweet.  
>In case you caught Beth's age being 18, I <em>did<em> change it so she isn't underage at this specific point. Goodbye, canon!  
>Keep the reviews coming! :)<p> 


	3. III

_ The sky was shaded black and blue, illuminated every few seconds by sharp strikes of lightning firing through the clouds. Rain pelted the roof and windows of the small shack, and the wind growled threateningly outside. Daryl sat on the floor, his small legs crossed and eyes cast upward at the ceiling overhead. Water dripped onto the floor in various places from above him. _

_ He scratched his scalp roughly, eyes flickering to his father, and muttered, "Should prolly fix that."_

_ "Mmm? Ya think so?" the man replied sarcastically, not looking up at his son. He continued sharpening the knife in his hand, pausing occasionally only to loudly swallow more beer. "Get your lazy ass out there and fix it then."_

_ Daryl watched his father silently until their gazes finally met. His father's eyes were bitter and hollow, and he stared at his son with an unwavering coldness. _

_ "The hell you think you're looking at?" He spat, rising from his recliner quickly. "Ain't got nothing to say now, huh? You stupid or something?" _

_ Daryl remained quiet, his eyes dropping to his lap. As long as Daryl could remember, his father had always been this way. He'd learned quickly that the beatings and cruel words would end sooner if he kept his mouth shut – it never permanently stopped them, though. It was during these times, the worst, that he wished more than anything that Merle was present. But Merle was never there._

_ "Son of a bitch!" Daryl's father shouted angrily as his beer bottle tipped over and the content emptied into the already stained, musky carpet. He kicked his recliner roughly, stumbling to keep his balance, and whirled around on Daryl. He stormed over to his son, staring down at him with eyes ablaze with fury._

_ "You see what you made me do?" he growled furiously. "Get to the fridge and bring me another one."_

_ Daryl felt a tiny surge of courage, and before he could stop himself he muttered, "No."_

_ He had never directly disobeyed his father like so. It caught the man off guard for a fleeting moment. When Daryl looked up at his father, he knew he'd made a grave mistake. He prepared himself for the lashes, but it didn't dull the pain any. His father bent down quickly and roughly dug his fingers into the front of Daryl's shirt, wrenching him to his feet._

_ "The hell you just say to me, boy? Who you think you're talking to? Huh?"_

_ Instinctively, Daryl began to pull away and try to free himself. His father spit, clenched his jaw, and threw Daryl to the ground. There was a crack as the back of his head slammed onto the floor. His head whirled as he rolled over to his stomach, everything in the room tipping dangerously to one side. His eyes rolled back, vision blurred and black seeped into the edges. He barely registered his father tearing his shirt from his back and tossing the pathetic cloth to the floor. He heard the faint clink of his father's belt coming undone, and tried to push up from the floor and crawl away but the room continued to tilt and spin, and he fell back defeatedly._

_ He heard the slap of the belt on his back before he felt it's painful bite. His hands balled into fists and he grit his teeth as lash after lash bloodied his back. He tried desperately not to cry out, not to give his father such satisfaction, but he could only take so many whippings before he submitted to the pain. His lips parted slightly and the sound that escaped sounded like that of a wounded animal._

_ "Will Dixon! Goddamn it!"_

_ Daryl took a deep breath as his mother's voice rang out and his father's lashing's paused. He relaxed his tense body ever so slightly, buried his face into the carpet, and struggled to control his ragged, heavy breathing. He could feel the rich blood on his back as it dripped down over his ribcage and stained into the carpet._

_ "Can't you hear him hollering?" she shouted at Daryl's father. "How many times do I have to tell you to take his ass out back to teach him a lesson? That whining and crying gives me a headache! Shut him up already."_

* * *

><p>The memory flowed through Daryl's mind rapidly. Try as he might to force the flashbacks to the darkest corner of his head, they always somehow resurfaced. They were a reoccurring reminder to who he was and what his self worth was – nothing. It had been drilled into his head from birth that he was and would always be worthless. Both him and Merle grew up this way, but Daryl always seemed to received it worse. When Merle would leave, be sent off to some juvenile correction center, their parents would lash out at Daryl as if to punish him for Merle's actions.<p>

Daryl rubbed at his eyes roughly and swore under his breath. He hadn't even had breakfast yet and he was already in a sour mood. The bed creaked beneath him as he rolled over onto his back and rested his arm behind his head. He stared at the pale, white ceiling above him for long, slow passing minutes as his thoughts drifted wildly. He wondered where Merle was at that very moment – if he was even alive – and what he was doing.

Though Merle was absent for most of his childhood, he and Daryl always shared a closeness. Merle was key to his survival, as he taught Daryl everything he knew about hunting, skinning, and tracking. Merle may not have been present during the times their parents fed into their drunken anger, but he always knew it would be Merle, in the end, who would always have his back. Not anyone from the group, and no one from the farm for damn sure; no one but Merle.

Daryl shifted his gaze from the ceiling to finally get a good glimpse of the room in the broad daylight. It was nice, comfortable, and quaint, and he hated it. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wanted to like the home, but he knew better. He knew better than to become attached to anything or anyone here because eventually it would cease to exist, or he would. A smaller part of him felt undeserving. What did he ever do to deserve to be in a place so nice? He deserved his tent, and that was exactly where he planned to go.

He winced and groaned as he removed himself from the hot sheets and pulled himself to his feet off the bed. His clothes had been washed and were sitting on a chair next to him. They still felt slightly damp in his hands. He briefly wondered who took the liberty to wash his filthy clothes, thought about finding out so he could say thank you, but shook his head at the thoughts. He didn't ask anyone to help him, he didn't want it, and wasn't good at being polite to anyone who just assumed he needed their assistance.

He buttoned the shirt, pulled his vest on over it, and bent down to tie his shoes. Pain blazed up his side and stopped him for a moment. In his head echoed the voice of Merle. _Pussy. _He mentally cursed and fought through the pain until his boots were tied and he was finished. He grabbed his crossbow from it's resting spot as he walked slowly away from the bed and out of the room. He didn't give the bedroom a second glance as he left.

Aside from scavenging and looting homes after the disease spread, Daryl realized he had never been in a house so nice. It threw the words family and love in his face as he passed through each room. He walked through the living room, pausing to look at the pictures on the mantle. He saw both Maggie and Beth in various pictures. In every picture, he noticed, both of them were smiling and looked happy. A mixture of jealousy and anger surged through him. Jealousy because his life wasn't and wouldn't ever be like theirs. He didn't have parents who cared or family who were always there when he needed them. He barely had food on the table, and that was largely in thanks to himself. He rolled his eyes and turned away from the pictures.

He continued on into the dining room. Everyone sat around a large, mahogany table. He glanced around at everyone in his group, then to the family whose house they were in. He noted that the Beth was absent, but couldn't find it in him to care.

"We just made breakfast," Carol said softly as she noticed him.

As badly as he wanted to vacate the home, he wanted food more and he knew he was in no shape to go out hunting at the moment. He gave Carol an expressionless nod. Wordlessly, he took an empty seat between Shane and Glenn and didn't hesitate to begin filling his plate with food.

Light footsteps padded down the hallway and into the dining room. Daryl looked up to see Beth, still in the pajama shorts and t-shirt she slept in, making her way through the room until she took the only empty seat directly across from him. Her eyelids were half closed as if she'd only just woken up. Her fingers were wrapped around a cup of coffee so hot the steam swirled. She looked exhausted and kept her eyes low as if she didn't have the energy to even glance up.

She pressed the cup of coffee to her lips, tasting a tiny sip, and started putting food on her plate. Daryl passed his gaze down the line of people until they landed on Rick who took this opportunity to run the day's plans by.

"Thought we'd have some gun training today," he began. "Maggie and some of the others want to help look for Sophia, but before we hand guns off to everyone we need to run through the basics. Daryl, I know you're injured but it'd be really great if we could get your help today; just show them how to aim and pull the trigger, that's all."

"S'fine," Daryl answered between bites. "When?"

"This afternoon, sometime after lunch. Shane and I will round everyone up when we're ready. I appreciate it, Daryl."

Daryl shrugged and wiped his bottom lip with his thumb.

"You're coming too?"

Daryl raised his eyebrows as he looked up at Maggie. She was watching Beth, who looked up at her as if she was only just noticing her sister sitting next to her for the first time.

"No," she stated dully, eyes still cast downward.

"Come on, it'll be fun," Maggie said cheerfully.

"No, I'd really rather not," Beth said softly.

"She might get dirty," Daryl muttered before he could stop himself.

Beth and Maggie both looked up at him. Maggie looked startled, as if she was expecting him to agree with her and try to convince Beth to go. Beth's expression was unreadable; Daryl couldn't decide whether it was anger or defeat he saw flash in her eyes.

"Beth, it might be helpful to go," Patricia commented quietly. "With everything that's happened. . . Well, it's something to consider."

Beth watched Patricia carefully, drinking in her words. Daryl could tell she was mentally fighting with herself – deciding whether she wanted to be present or not. He guessed it had something to do with him as he hadn't been particularly kind to her in all of their passings. She was just so tiny, so fragile, and it worked his nerves. She had it so easy all of her life, and even now that their world was crashing around them she still hadn't toughened up. He decided early on that even if everyone else would, he wouldn't coddle her. She wasn't a baby and it was far past time for her to grow up a little, in his opinion.

She was like a kitten, he thought; so small that when you hold one you want to squeeze for no reason. Something in him wanted to push her just to see how hard he had to push until she broke or found the fight in herself – if she had it in her at all. He wasn't so sure, honestly.

"You need to know how to protect yourself," Rick spoke lightly.

Beth finally submitted and shrugged, "Fine, okay. Find me when y'all start."

With that, she pushed her chair back and left the room without a second glance or another word. Maggie gave everyone an apologetic look and followed her sister out, saying she would talk to her and make sure she was okay. Daryl wondered if Beth would reveal to Maggie his temper and how he'd been rude to her, but then decided he didn't care.

As everyone else began slowly filing out, Daryl too carried his plate into the kitchen, handed it off to Lori, and found himself outside. The day was already hot and it was barely noon. The humidity peppered sweat on his forehead as he made his way to their campsite and took a seat underneath a tree. He pulled out his hunting knife and began sharpening it. He glanced up occasionally, keeping his eye on surroundings. He noticed Rick and Shane approaching, the bag of guns thrown over Rick's shoulder.

"We'll have Patricia, Maggie, Beth, Jimmy, Andrea, and Carl. We'll split them into pairs, that's two of them for each of us to teach," Rick said when they reached him.

"I'll take Andrea," Shane stated. "And I guess Jimmy. He's probably going to need a lot of work."

"Okay, I'll work with Carl and Patricia. Daryl, you can work with Maggie and Beth."

He wasn't sure how Beth would react to having him teaching her. He hoped he had the patience for her. Maggie, he thought, would be fairly easy to work with. She had the thirst to learn how to use a gun properly where Beth did not. He already foresaw himself becoming agitated with her easily.

"Round 'em up, lets get this started," Daryl replied. "I'd like to cover more ground today, see if I can find anything else 'round the spot I found her doll."

"I'll get the everyone and meet y'all out there," Rick said, handing the bag of guns to Shane and then heading for the house.

Shane had found a nice spot on Hershel's property off in the fields for the training. He and Daryl lined cans up in various spots along the fence row, then began removing the guns from the bag and displaying them in the bed of the truck. Daryl double checked them to make sure they were fully loaded and the safety was clicked in place.

He heard the rumble of the truck as Rick and the others drove up. Beth and Jimmy were seated on the tailgate. Her hair was wild and blowing in her face in the wind. Daryl chewed on the skin next to his thumbnail impatiently as everyone unloaded. Beth and Jimmy hopped down holding hands, walking past Daryl without so much as a look.

"Childish," Daryl muttered, leaning his back against the hot truck.

Rick ran over the plan to the group, explaining who would be training with who. They dispersed quickly, leaving Beth, Maggie, and Daryl standing by the truck.

"You ever shot one before?" he asked the both of them.

Beth shook her head, still never looking at him, but Maggie said, "I have, once or twice."

Daryl watched Beth for a few seconds as she stared at the guns. He wondered what she was thinking; if she was scared, nervous, or excited. Her facial expression left a lot to be desired, and finally he turned his back to them and retrieved two small handguns. He turned back around and extended them out to the girls.

"The safety is on, but never point it at anyone," he stated flatly. "Well, anyone _alive_."

He lead them around the truck and had them face the fence. He stood behind them, watching their backs as they stared at the targets. Beth held the gun out in front of her uncomfortably with one hand. She looked awkward, and Daryl rolled his eyes.

"Two hands," he commented.

For the first time since her arrival, she looked over her shoulder at him. Her blue eyes were bright in the sunlight. She raised her eyebrow at him but said nothing. She set her jaw defiantly, and he knew she didn't want to obey him. He also knew she knew he was right, and therefore put both hands on the gun as she turned back around. The air was charged with the sound of gunfire as everyone worked, all except for Beth. Maggie had hit her target on the first try and a proud grin flooded her face.

"Shoot," he instructed Beth.

The gun shook in her trembling hands. Daryl rolled his eyes and stepped closer to her, looking over her shoulder but careful not to touch her.

"Fire the gun, Beth," he commanded. "Put your finger on the trigger and pull."

"I will," she said under her breath. "When I'm ready."

He leaned his face forward until his lips were dangerously close to her ear. She could feel his warm breath along her neck as he spoke, and goosebumps fired up her arms.

"You won't have time to get ready when you're surrounded by walkers. Now fire the damn gun," he said harshly.

Her lips pressed into a tight line. Much to his surprise, she obeyed. Her finger locked on the trigger and the bullet disappeared into the dirt many yards behind the target. She recoiled and started to lower the gun, but he wrapped his arms around her and grasped her elbows, forcing her to keep the gun aimed. He was very careful not to touch her anywhere but her elbows.

"No," he said roughly. "Top of the gun, aim." His finger tapped the top of the gun lightly. "Look here, watch the target. The bullet will go where you want it to."

"I don't want it to go anywhere," she replied quickly.

"Too damn bad. Everyone ain't gonna protect you forever, princess," he retorted in a low, aggravated tone.

"They don't pro–"

"Bullshit!" he almost shouted. He glanced around to make sure no one had heard him, but over the gunfire no one had so much as glanced over. "Bullshit."

"What is your problem? What did I ever do to you?" she asked angrily, spinning to face him.

"Turn around and try again," he said, grabbing her shoulders and forcing her to face the fence again.

"Lay off," she whispered softly.

"Fire the damn gun," he growled.

She pulled the trigger again and the bullet once again missed the target, but dirt sprayed much closer than the last time.

"Again," he said.

"But–"

"Do it again, damn it!"

She jerked away from him and pulled the trigger once more. The can flew off the fence row and landed in the dirt. She spun on him, clicked the safety on like she'd seen him do, and shoved the gun into his hands. Her eyes were wide, and he could tell she was upset with the way he treated her. She bit her bottom lip and dropped her eyes.

She shoved past him without another word and headed for the truck. Maggie turned as she left, giving Daryl a questioning glance but he just turned away. He noticed Jimmy as he handed his gun off to Shane and followed Beth to the truck. He sat on the tailgate next to Beth and put his hand on her shoulder soothingly. Daryl rolled his eyes and turned back around to give Maggie a few, last minute pointers.

* * *

><p>AN: Yes, I changed the title! I wasn't aware of just how many Bethyl stores I shared the title with, so I just changed it.  
>This chapter hurts my heart, but I hope you enjoyed it. Review, tell me how you like it. :)<p> 


	4. IV

The sky bellowed with thunder as rain showered down on the house. The front windows remained open, wafting in the smell of wet dirt and summer rainfall. Beth sat by the window, curled up in a chair with her legs tucked neatly beneath her and letting the warm wind stroke her face. The majority of Rick's group had been in the house since the rain started early that morning, though Dale and Carol had retreated to the RV after breakfast. Carol remained visibly upset over her daughter and wanted solitude.

Beth pulled her eyes away from the window and back down to the book in her lap. She could hear her father and Maggie arguing in hushed voices just outside the room, and quickly found herself focusing less on her book and more on eavesdropping.

"This is not our problem."

"Daddy– "

"–I don't want to talk about it anymore, Maggie."

"They're not bad people," she said barely loud enough for Beth to hear.

"Doesn't matter," he replied equally as quiet. "They can find somewhere else that's just as saf– "

"Why should they? We have plenty of room for them here," she argued.

"They were fine before they found us, they'll be just as fine after they leave."

"So that's it, then? We just throw them out and hope they make it? What about Sophia? If you're going to make them leave, why even wait until they find her?" she spat lowly.

"This isn't about them or Sophia, is it? This is about Glenn," he stated coolly, slight worry hidden underneath his casual words.

"This is about you," she hotly reasoned. "This is about you and the man you are. If you can so easily throw them out then you're not the man I thought you were."

Beth heard retreating footsteps and the voice of her father as he called to Maggie, but she ignored him and left him standing alone. She walked briskly into the room with Beth, hands unsteady and eyes red.

"He won't throw them out," Beth whispered gently at the sight of her sister so openly upset. "Not while Sophia is still missing."

"And when they find her, that'll be the end of it," she stated flatly.

"No," Beth replied softly. "He'll change his mind. He's stubborn, but he's not cruel, Maggie."

There was a silent pause as Maggie sat on the couch across from Beth and placed her elbows on her knees and face in her hands. Her shoulders sagged. Beth thought she looked defeated, but she knew her sister was worried over nothing. They both knew their father was protective, especially after everyone they'd lost, and he'd do whatever it took to keep his family safe. But Beth also knew her father wasn't cold blooded. She knew Rick and his group would be allowed to stay even after they found Sophia, but it wouldn't be their father if he didn't put up defenses against anyone they didn't know, and they were still familiarizing themselves with everyone.

Beth opened her mouth to give more sound reassurance to her sister when a blood curdling scream erupted in the silence. Panic adrenaline raced through her veins and her pulse sparked. She jumped to her feet quickly.

"Beth? Maggie?" their father shouted frantically from the kitchen.

He ran into the room with Lori, Rick, Daryl, and Shane hot on his heels. Each of their faces were painted with worry, except Daryl who, crossbow in hand, pushed past all of them and ran for the front door to find the source of the screams.

"Patricia," Hershel whispered, sharing a distressed look with Rick.

"Stay with Carl," Rick ordered Lori, running after Daryl with Shane following quickly.

Seconds later, Glenn ran past the doorway and shoved out the front door with a slam. Maggie's eyes were wide and worried when they met Beth's, and she hit the door after him without hesitation. Less than a heartbeat's pause later, Beth was running full speed after her sister, ignoring all of her father's calls to stay in the house. Rain blurred her vision as she ran, soaking her until her hair stuck to her face and her clothes glued to her body tightly. She could feel mud and water splashing onto the back of her jeans, her boots sticking in the mud as she ran, but she tread through as quickly as her feet would propel her.

Terror filled screams continued to fill the air. Beth knew before ever reaching the barn that it was Patricia. She saw Maggie, yards ahead of her, reach the entrance of the barn just as Glenn ran out. He grabbed her by the arms and tried urgently to pull her away from the barn. She could hear Maggie's screams harmonizing with Patricia's as she pulled and pushed, desperately trying to break free of Glenn's restraint and run inside.

Beth's feet slipped on the slippery grass and mud beneath her as she ran. When she reached the entrance to the barn, there was no one there to stop her from going inside. Glenn had Maggie's back pressed to his chest, his arms around her, and they too slipped and danced in the mud as he struggled to pull her back to the house. She dug her feet in, screaming Patricia's name, and clawing to get inside the barn – to reach Patricia.

"No!" he shouted to Beth. "Don't go in there! BETH! Damn it!"

Maggie's screams grew quieter and quieter as Glenn finally got a secure hold on her and began dragging her back to the house. Beth ignored his feeble attempts to stop her and ran inside the cover of the barn. Water dripped from every inch of her, and she pushed her wet hair from her eyes quickly. Shane, Daryl, and Rick stood huddled around a small figure on the ground. She could hear agonized whimpers from Patricia, though the men blocked the view of her. Her screams had finally stopped, but the tortured cries she now omitted seemed almost worse to Beth.

Gravel crunched beneath her shoes as she slowly moved closer. All three sets of eyes jerked up and met hers, and Rick and Daryl stood simultaneously. It was Daryl, though, who moved towards her. His body shifted just enough for Beth to see Patricia's body on the ground. Blood pooled around her, and her right leg was a butchered mess of meat and muscle hardly hanging together. It was then she noticed the dead walker only feet away from Patricia's mangled body.

She took a shaky step closer. She wanted to drop to her knees next to Patricia; reassure her that she would be okay, that she wasn't alone. Everything would be okay. But Daryl was fast approaching, and finally she felt his fingers lock around her upper arm and hastily pull her in the other direction. She jerked against his grip. His fingers slipped on her wet skin and she pulled free, but only managed to get a few feet closer before his arms fastened around her waist like a vice and lifted her feet from the ground. She kicked the air and fought against his grip, closing her eyes and crying out pathetically for Patricia.

"Don't," he whispered breathlessly against her ear. "Don't need to see this."

"Let – me – go!" she shouted as she struggled, but he was much stronger than her.

"Beth," he spoke, trying his best to calm her. "Beth, stop – fighting. Stop!"

She elbowed his arms as hard as she could, dug her heels into his shins, and rocked her body against his trying to loosen his grip, but he held steadfastly. She felt the cool rain begin to drench her skin again as he pulled her from the cover of the barn. She heard her father's voice, though he sounded far off, trying valiantly to calm her, but she continued to struggle against Daryl. When she opened her eyes, she caught sight of her father's back just as he entered the barn.

"Let me go," she cried in a defeated voice, pathetically hitting his arms as her efforts to free herself finally beginning to fade. He took a brief pause from dragging her to catch his breath, but didn't loosen his hold on her any.

"S'better if you don't," he began, his voice hushed and calm. "No point in you looking at that."

Regaining her drive, she rammed her elbow deep into his abdomen and felt his arms go slack just enough for her to jolt away. He hunched over and draped his right arm around his stomach. She spun on him quickly, her wet hair sending water spraying in all directions. She squinted through the rain at him accusingly, blood boiling.

"The hell you do that f– "

"I bet you loved that, didn't you?" she shouted, unable to contain her emotions any longer.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he huffed agitatedly, pulling himself upright and looking down at her.

She looked up at him, blazed with emotion and unable to back down. "_Everyone ain't gonna protect you forever_," she mimicked him brokenly.

"Hey!" he shouted back, growing increasingly angry and jabbing his finger towards her. "I was trying to help you!"

"_Why_?" she retorted, her voice rising above his. "Why even bother? This the reality, isn't it? That's what they do, right?"

"What'd you think?" he yelled back, losing his temper completely. "They sure as hell don't want to hang out and have a chat! Are you that _stupid_?"

"This is how you help me?" she cried.

"I sure as hell ain't gonna lie to you!" he yelled loudly, stepping exceedingly close. "I wasn't gonna let you look at her like that – wouldn't help you any."

"And this helps me?" she repeated.

His hands shot out and grabbed her shoulders roughly. "Open your damn eyes, girl! I don't know what your family's got you thinking, but these things ain't nothing but killers! The sooner you accept that, the better off you'll be."

He took a step back and dropped his hands quickly, as if just realizing he had a hold on her. A sob rose from her throat dangerously, and she put her face in her hands for a moment. She hated crying in front of him. As she lost total control of her tears, she shoved past him, hitting his shoulder roughly as she made for the house. His fingers wrapped around her wrist, but she jerked away from him bitterly.

"Don't touch me! _Don't_!" she screamed, her voice raw and chaffed from crying and yelling.

He let her go this time. He didn't follow nor did he call out for her. The last thing she heard as she walked through the front door was that of a lone gunshot rippling through the storm.

* * *

><p>After a long shower, where she found herself only standing and letting the water run down her face and over her body, she retreated to her room. For the duration of the day, she stayed closed up in her room and curled up in bed. She went through various intermissions of sobbing, dry heaving in the bathroom, and staring blankly at the walls. It was during these dark moments, unlike anything she'd experienced since her mother got sick, that she began to contemplate life and it's worth – her worth.<p>

Her mind continued to race back to the sight of Patricia's body just lying in the dirt and gravel, her leg mangled to a gory mess. "_They're sick," _echoed her father's voice. That's what she had been taught since the disease so rapidly spread, but what she saw hours earlier was unlike anything she'd ever seen; that thing had tried to eat Patricia. It _did_ eat her – half her leg. Sick people don't turn into cannibals, she'd decided. But that meant that they weren't sick at all. So what were they?

She was a whirling mess of emotions and critical thinking, trying to find a conclusion to problem she knew she'd never understand. Lori came twice to bring her food, lunch and dinner, but Beth kept her door locked and merely muttered something about not being hungry. Jimmy knocked on her door once, but Beth only ignored him. Aside from those two, she'd been left alone all day to grieve. When her muddled thoughts finally began to clear and she thought she could speak without crying, she noticed nightfall had come. It was only then that she departed from her room and made her way downstairs. She ran her fingers idly through her tangled, wild hair and rubbed at her swollen eyes.

In the kitchen, she was still alone. She didn't turn on the light, only made her way through the darkness to the counter where she took an apple from a bowl and forced food into her empty stomach. After a few bites, though, nausea swept in and she threw the apple away disgustedly. She continued on through the living room and into the kitchen where lamps were lit and everyone still awake was seated at the kitchen table; Rick, her father, Shane, Daryl, and Lori. All eyes turned to her as she pulled out a chair next to her father and sat down, folding a leg beneath her. She took a slow, deep breath and exhaled loudly in the silence.

"I'm so sorry," Lori began quietly.

"We all are," Rick added.

Beth only shrugged and looked over at her father. He looked pale and tired, and she thought he'd aged years in hours. He placed a soft hand on her shoulder.

"Are you okay?" she asked him.

He flitted around the question with ease. "We'll have a funeral for Patricia in the morning."

"So she. . . she didn't. ."

She knew the answer – knew someone had shot Patricia – but a small part of her had hoped she had somehow survived. She'd hoped the gunshot wasn't aimed for Patricia, even though she knew it was. She had been bleeding to death, Beth knew, and infected, but they had never killed anyone sick before. Admittedly, she'd never seen anyone so disfigured and severely injured, but she'd also never considered those possibilities. She wasn't aware of what the walkers were capable of.

"No, sweetheart. No."

She sat her hands palm down on the table, fingers splayed wide, and took another deep breath. She could feel everyone's eyes burning holes into her skin, but couldn't look up to face any of them. She wondered who'd been placed with the task of shooting Patricia. Shane? Rick? Certainly not her father. Probably Shane, she decided, as he'd shown the most inclination towards violence.

"Where's Maggie?" she finally asked.

"Coping," Lori replied. "She's been in her room all day. Glenn's been in and out checking on her."

She stole a glance at her father, but he showed no anger; only exhaustion. She chewed her bottom lip uncomfortably and swept her gaze around the table, pausing on Daryl for half a second. He had his head down and was picking at his fingers, showing no visible interest in the conversation. She knew she owed him an apology for yelling at him earlier, but decided she'd give him one later if at all. He never apologized to her for the way he spoke to her, and she figured he wouldn't. He seemed too proud; felt like he was right too often to apologize for anything.

But now that she had calmed down, she was thankful for what he'd done not just today but the day before. He'd forced her to take her gun training seriously, though she didn't want to, because he knew the consequences of being alone and unarmed. Then today he'd kept her from seeing Patricia's body, even though he said he wouldn't protect her, because he knew how such a sight would affect her. She knew what he thought of her, that much he'd made clear; fragile, weak, too protected to see the truth even when it stared her in the face. And maybe she was all of those things, but she knew the truth when she saw it. It was clear that this disease wasn't what she'd been led to believe, but she couldn't be angry with her father. She knew he honestly believed these people were sick, otherwise he wouldn't have told her so.

Equally shaken from what she'd seen, a tiny fragment of her was also thankful – though she'd never admit so – because now she knew the truth. Now, she just had to find a way to accept it.

After a night of tossing and rolling more than actual sleep, Beth left the cover of her room early to find that the rain had gone but the clouds lingered threateningly. She met Maggie, Carol, and Lori in the kitchen, all getting breakfast ready. The smell of fresh scrambled eggs and bacon frying consumed the house and sent her stomach growling. Before greeting anyone, she walked up behind Maggie quietly and wrapped her arms around her. Maggie paused from scrambling the eggs, frozen for just a moment, before laying a hand on top of her sister's. She dropped her head slightly, set the spoon in the frying pan, and turned to wrap Beth in a tight, warm embrace.

She smelled of soap and her hair was still damp from her shower. Her hair left a dark, damp patch on Beth's shirt. When she pulled away, she noticed her sister's eyes and lips were puffy and knew she spent most of the night crying.

"It's okay," Beth whispered soothingly.

Maggie nodded sadly and placed a warm hand on Beth's cheek. They stood there for a silent moment, Maggie's hand lingering on Beth's face, before her lips turned upward in a weak smile and she turned back around to finish cooking the eggs before they burned.

"The service is after breakfast," Lori explained in a soft, warm voice. "She'll be next to Otis."

"She would've wanted that," Beth replied with a nod.

"I made this for her," Carol said, offering a wooden cross woven with summer flowers to Beth.

She couldn't bring herself to touch it, to hold it, but she studied it. The wood was dark and held contrast to the bright yellow and purple flowers twined around it. Beth gave Carol a genuine smile.

"It's lovely," she said with gratitude. "She would have loved it."

Carol returned Beth's smile kindly and placed the cross back on the counter. Deciding she should help, Beth began pulling plates from the cabinet and carrying them into the dining room. It was easy to assume everyone would be eating, since Lori and Carol were helping, but after she set the table and people begin pouring in she realized someone was missing. Daryl. She sat at the table next to Maggie and as everyone began eating hungrily, Daryl was still nowhere to be seen. Even Carl, who'd finally been given permission to leave his bed, was in attendance; sitting between Rick and Lori. T-Dog, who's arm still crowned a stark white bandage, and Carol, whose worry for her daughter grew increasingly with each passing day, were both there. But Daryl was not.

Beth wondered, as her plate grew with food, if it was her fault; if her yelling had been enough to send him packing and he'd left. But she knew that idea was foolish the instant it appeared. Daryl would never leave with Sophia still missing. He'd missed an entire day of searching for the little girl with it raining the previous day, so she assumed he'd gotten an early start this morning.

The conversation at the table was dull and quiet as everyone tiptoed around their words; unsure of what to say and if it would upset any of her or her family. They veered around anything involving Patricia and the conversation, at the sake of Carol, ended up on Sophia.

"We've already planned multiple search routes for today," Rick explained. "We'll spend all day searching for her."

"I'd like to help today," Maggie offered.

Lori and Glenn shared a quick glance, so fleeting that Beth barely noticed.

"Actually, I need to run into town for supplies and I was hoping you could show me to the pharmacy," Glenn said, slightly turning in his seat to face Maggie.

"Oh," she said, her voice switching from disappointment to excitement. Beth knew she was happy to get out of the house, even if for only an hour or two. "I'll take you."

"I'd like to go," Beth said suddenly, setting her fork on her plate loudly and looking to her sister. But it was her father who spoke up in response.

"No."

Everyone's eyes flicked to Hershel. Rick and Lori's gaze quickly dropped to their plates. This was a conversation they knew didn't involve them and their opinions remained unwanted and unnecessary.

"Daddy," Beth started softly.

"No," he repeated, this time more sternly.

"I think it's a good idea," Maggie offered quietly, taking her sister's side.

"You do?" Beth whispered surprised.

"Yeah," she replied, looking back to their father. "She's can't stay holed up in this house forever, she's not much good to anyone. It's a quick run, we know exactly where we're going. We'll be in and out in minutes."

"Right," Glenn agreed. Beth wondered if he would agree to just about anything Maggie said, though. "I've always been the one to go on supply runs. It's kind of a mastered art for me."

Maggie chuckled and Beth grinned, but Hershel's face remained grim and he pressed his lips in a tight line.

"Sooner or later I'll have to go out. You can't protect me forever," she whispered gently, Daryl's words sifting through her mind. She hated agreeing with him, but knew it was true. "Who better to go with than Maggie?"

When he remained quiet, Beth added, "I need to get out of this house for a few hours. Please."

He huffed, rubbed his temples, and picked up his plate angrily. "Fine. You keep your eyes on my girls at all times," he added, narrowing his eyes at Glenn.

"Yes, sir," Glenn replied quickly, stammering over the words under his harsh gaze.

The idea of brief freedom and being released from the house was so soothing to Beth it consumed her thoughts, allowing her to almost forget the funeral service. But everyone else remembered. After she had finished eating, she changed out of her pajamas into cool capri pants and a light button down shirt. She knew it was going to be hot, even beneath the cover of clouds, and wanted to stay as cool as possible. She tied her hair back and minutes later found herself following the crowd out to the large oak tree for another funeral.

She stood in front of the grave between her father and Maggie. Jimmy's gaze kept meeting hers, and he gave her questioning looks. _Are you okay?_ She nodded. _Are you sure? _She nodded and looked away. Rick hammered the cross into the ground at the head of the grave, the sound of the hammer on wood drumming in her ears. She finally tore her eyes away from the cross and swept them around the group. Her eyes fell on Daryl, who'd returned to attend the service. He stood, like last time, at the back of the group. His crossbow was slung over his shoulder, his eyes downcast. She watched him for a moment, but his gaze never turned upward and she finally looked away.

The service was relatively quick, as everyone had jobs to do that day. After it had ended, Beth trailed Maggie and Glenn to the barn where they began saddling the horses and Glenn began giving directions.

"I'll go in before you two, scope the place out and make sure there's no walkers."

"Can you stop calling them that, please?" Maggie asked, giving him a skeptical glance.

"Sorry," he muttered. "It's just – never mind. I'll make sure the place is safe before you two come in."

Beth nodded in agreement and swung up onto her horse. Maggie did the same, pulling Glenn up behind her. Beth's horse danced beneath her, ready to leave. She felt equal anxiety, and some excitement, and couldn't hide the smile flirting on her lips.

"Ready?" Glenn asked.

"Ready."

* * *

><p>AN: Bless my achy, little fangirl soul.  
>I love reading your nice reviews! :) Be sure to let me know how you liked this chapter!<p> 


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